Chapter 5
5
Tenley
By the time Hume wraps up the mile-long list of everything wrong with my house, I want to cry. I don't even care about the humiliation. I was bracing for some bad news, but this is a whole other level of bad. "That's a lot. I—I don't know what to say."
A pained smile. "It is. But look, on the upside?—"
"There's an upside?"
"There is." He smiles, a little less pained this time. "Even though there's a lot that needs fixing, the structure itself is…solid."
"So…the upshot is my house doesn't need to be torn down?"
A chuckle. A nice sounding chuckle. Warm and rich and wraps around you like a hug. So warm and rich and huggy that it breaks through my defenses. It's the only logical explanation for the next words out of my mouth. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"
Hume appears just as surprised by my impromptu invitation as I am. His mouth drops open until a sly grin replaces it. He sits up taller, cocks his head slightly. "Are you sure?"
I nod, getting up from the dining table and making my way into the kitchen. I appreciate him calling a ceasefire in our prank war to come over. He was thorough and took his time in inspecting the house. The online reviews for his construction company BDE are really positive, so I trust his assessment. I know I'm not being lied to and that I won't get ripped off.
But since I can't say any of that to him—ceasefire terms have yet to be established—I see his sly grin, raise him a mischievous smile, and murmur, "Can you think of a better way to poison an enemy?"
"It might be too early in the evening to determine whether I've been poisoned or not—you seem smart so you could have gone with a slow release option—but that was a lovely meal. Thank you, Tenley."
The skin on the back of my neck prickles at Hume's compliment. "No problem."
Garlic butter shrimp pasta sounds way fancier than it is. And it only takes about twenty minutes to whip up.
"No, no. Let me," I hear from behind as I take the plates to the sink. Hume catches up to me, the heel of his palm brushing against the crook of my elbow. I somehow manage to not lose my grip on the plates. "You can't cook and clean," he rations.
"Oh, I can't, can I?" I spin around so I'm staring directly up at him, jabbing the edge of the plate into his chest. "Are you saying a modern, empowered woman can't cook and clean?"
He jerks his head back, confused. "Why does that sound like a trick question?"
It dawns on me how silly what I said sounded. It must dawn on Hume, too, because his blue-silvery eyes glitter in the burnt-orange glow of my dining room.
I roll my eyes. Yes, he's been frustrating and rude and slightly cocky, but he has turned down the noise at night, and he is here helping me tackle the little shop of horrors that is my house, and he is wearing a shirt—a checkered pattern of various shades of brown—so maybe I ought to ease up on him. A little. "Truce?"
"Truce?" he repeats, and I detect a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.
"Yes."
"To the war you started?"
My hand drops, my hackles rise. "Excuse me? I started nothing. You're the one who ignored me the day I moved in." Not to mention several times after that, but I don't say that since I don't want to come across as someone who's been keeping score, even though I totally have been.
He lets out a low hiss, his face forlorn. "About that. I'm sorry I reacted the way I did."
I knew it. I knew he saw me. I was starting to doubt myself, because whose first reaction to seeing their new neighbor for the first time is to look like they're about to throw up before booking it into their house?
"Who does that?" I jab him again with the plate then rest it on the counter before I inflict any plate-related bodily harm.
He inches closer. "I'm an idiot."
My pulse quickens. "You are."
I'm boxed in between Hume and the counter, but even if I weren't, I don't know if I'd want to move. Little bubbles of… something percolate, sucking up the oxygen in the room…and in my lungs.
He advances some more. "I messed up."
The skin on my arms tingles. "You can say that again."
"I messed up."
I do not smile at that.
The air between us turns hazy.
"Tell me to shut up," he murmurs before taking one final stride until he's right up in my space, so near I can feel the warmth of his breath on my forehead.
"Excuse me?"
"Go with it." His voice is so deep it's practically a growl. "Tell me to shut up."
"Fine." I lift my chin and stare into his dual-colored eyes. The haze builds until he's the only thing filling my vision. "Shut. Up."
The skin around the edges of his eyes crinkles. "Make me."
A surprised breath gusts out of me. I knew I was walking into some sort of trap, but what is he expecting to get out of this— ohhh .
His normal icy glare has been replaced by something that looks an awful lot like desire. But that can’t be right. He barely even acknowledges that I exist. He can't like me.
Can he?
I can't explain what happens next.
Somehow, Hume moves even closer to me. Somehow, his big strong hands find their way to the small of my lower back. Somehow, mine climb up his solid chest to the sunkissed skin at the nape of his neck. My body keeps betraying me until, somehow, I'm melting into the fusion of Hume's lips against mine.
A legion of butterflies takes flight in my stomach as the reality of what we're doing slams into me. I'm kissing my sexy mountain man neighbor. The surprisingly soft bristles of his beard tickle my cheeks, and with a confident sweep of his tongue against the seam of my lips, Hume Brockwell burrows his way into the depths of my desire. My entire body floods with a rush of arousal unlike anything I've ever experienced.
But before I get completely swept away, for the briefest of brief moments, an idea flickers in my mind. Could all this be a tactic, part of Hume's attempt to one-up me in our prank war? But the eruption of pleasure cascading throughout me, and the hard press of his body against mine and the sensual grunts rumbling from his chest, tells me that's silly. He wants this kiss as much as I do.
Which means Hume must like me…at least a little.
Which means…
Uhhh, what exactly does it mean?
"That's certainly one way to end a war with your neighbor," Belle says with a chuckle. "I'm glad Mom headhunted you before the UN beat her to it. Today, you're resolving neighborhood feuds. Tomorrow, world peace."
I giggle and throw a pencil across the room at her. I've just finished telling her about Hume's visit last night and how it went from him inspecting my house to him giving the inside of my mouth a very thorough once over.
In the month and a half I've worked at the lodge, Belle Walters and I have grown close. She's helping me settle into the role, having run the place herself for the past year. Her mother, Annabell Walters, is an industry legend, and since Belle is her only child, the plan was for her to take over as her mom steps back. The slight snag is that Belle has no desire to follow in her mother's footsteps. Things between her and I could have been epically awkward, instead, she feels more like a friend.
We're going through all the hotel paperwork—and when I say paperwork, I mean, every single file that has come through this property since it opened in 1901 is physical. This place hasn't digitized anything. My handover period was meant to only be a month. At the rate we're going, Belle will need to stay for at least another few weeks to help me bring this place into the twenty-first century.
"For a second, it crossed my mind that he could have just been raising the stakes on our prank war," I admit to her, but hearing the words aloud only reinforces their shallowness, because nothing about the kiss was fake. The explosion of chemistry between us at that moment was undeniable.
"Judging by the way you're smiling, I can see that it definitely wasn't a prank war tactic from your end," Belle observes.
I look down at the files all around me. "No. It wasn't."
"What happened after the kiss?"
"Not a lot. He helped me wash up, then left."
"What would you have liked to happen after the kiss?"
I shrug. "I honestly don't know. I don't have much experience with men. Haven't had the time."
I've dated casually in the past, but my focus has always been my work. And, to be honest, while I've liked a few guys, no one has ever piqued my interest the way Hume has. He has this way of getting me all riled up with just one smoldering look. I should hate it. But maybe I don't.
"Ah, career over men. I can relate, believe me." She finishes arranging one stack of papers, then moves on to the next. "Are you open to a relationship?"
"I am. My twin sister recently had a baby, which has kicked my own biological clock into overdrive. I think part of the reason why I accepted this job offer was to live in Cedar Crest Hollow. The pace of life here is slower, and it's an ideal place to raise a family. But…"
"But what?"
"First I need to find someone."
Belle cracks a wide grin. "Sounds to me like maybe you have."
"Your mom warned me about Hume."
Belle rolls her eyes. "Mom is old school and super protective. She's all about risk and analysis and doesn't like to take chances."
"Until recently, neither did I."
"Could've fooled me," Belle says, sounding surprised. "I realize we're only new friends, but let's review what I know about you. You quit your job. Moved to the other side of the country to take this one. And you bought a house online, without seeing it in person. That doesn't exactly scream careful and calculated to me."
"But that's the thing, for the first time ever, I took a chance, and look what happened."
"What exactly has happened? From what you've told me, you love being closer to your family. You like working here…" A frown creases her brow. "Wait. You do like working here, don't you?"
"Of course, I do. I love it."
She lets out a happy sounding sigh, likely relieved I'll be staying in my job and not having it fall back to her. She has plans to leave town as soon as I'm on my feet with the lodge.
"So what's the problem?" she presses.
"My house is falling apart, and my next door neighbor is…"
"Insanely hot? Wild, but in a good way? Older, but also in a good way?" she chimes in when I trail off.
"Well…"
She's kinda right on all three fronts, not leaving me much wiggle room for a comeback.
"Yes, your house is an issue, but it's a solvable one. And your super sexy, wild mountain man neighbor is an equally solvable issue. It sounds to me like taking a chance for the first time is actually paying off nicely for you."
"Huh." When she puts it like that.
"What is it that's really bothering you about Hume? Is it the age gap?"
"No, I mean. It's not that big of a gap. He'd be, what, early forties?"
She chokes out a surprise laugh. "Are you joking?"
"About what?"
"About Hume's age."
"No. Why? What, is he, like, forty-four, or something?"
"Oh, boy." Belle lowers the pile of papers in her hands onto the floor and makes her way over, sitting down cross-legged in front of me. She takes my hands in hers. "Tenley…" She blinks a few times. "He's fifty-two."
"No way."
"Afraid so." She waits a beat. "Does that bother you?"
"I…I don't know." I slip my hands out of hers and stand. It's a little hard to pace back and forth with my entire office floor is a metropolis of paper towers, so I zig and zag around them, trying to process that there's a twenty-freaking-two year age gap between us.
Belle folds her legs and rests her arms over knees. "Well?" she asks, after a few minutes pass. "What are you thinking?"
I stop zigzagging and turn to face her. "You know what? I'm thinking that since I've already taken one big chance in my life…why stop now?"
"That's the spirit." A bright smile lights up her face. "I don't know what's going to happen with you two, but I'm rooting for you, girl."